


The Reason That I'm Here

by Ragga



Series: Steter Week 2k17 [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Established Relationship, I'm sorry if you got this reference, M/M, Older Stiles Stilinski, Pack is Love Pack is Life, Post Hale Fire, Spark Stiles Stilinski, Steter Week 2017
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-24
Updated: 2017-11-24
Packaged: 2019-02-06 06:29:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12811662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ragga/pseuds/Ragga
Summary: "I- I need to see Peter Hale."Stiles knew he had to look close to insane if not even completely losing his mind. Barely awake, feeling the unease, with his instincts screaming at him - and then he saw the news.The Hale Fire.There was nothing that could keep him from Peter. Nothing.





	The Reason That I'm Here

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! This is my take on the Steter Week's first prompt, Season One Rewrite :) I have been looking forward to this week for... well. Since the announcement. Even had these ready early. Yes, these :') I may have gotten excited. And not used my time wisely. Well. Depending on the definition of wisely. I had fun, so what if I ignored some of my real life obligations at times...
> 
> In any case, enjoy :D

Stiles burst inside the hospital, garnering affronted looks and glowers from the personnel, but he ignored them as he pushed past the elderly patients and kids rushing to the front desk. Luckily, it was Melissa who was manning it.

“I- I need to see Peter Hale,” he said the moment she saw him coming. She looked at him, eyes filled with motherly concern. Stiles knew he had to look close to insane if not even completely losing his mind. He had just woken up and, seeing that his dad hadn’t been home the whole night – there was no coffee in the coffeemaker nor were his shoes by the door, – Stiles had put on the morning news and seen it.

The Hale Fire.

He hadn’t rushed to the hospital at first though. No, the Hales were _werewolves_ for fuck’s sake. There was no reason for them to go there, especially with their enhanced healing, no matter how badly he had slept the night, how his instincts screamed at him to _go_. But after a call to his dad, demanding details and hearing the slip from the other side of the line, he had run. He hadn’t even taken the jeep with him, he knew he would have just crashed it in his hurry. Thus, he ran.

Therefore, he looked like a sweaty, mad person demanding to see the only burn victim still alive from the devastating fire which had killed most of the upstanding Hales that had been adored even with their somewhat distant behaviour.

“Stiles, you know the drift,” Melissa said gently. “Only family until-”

“Well, are there any?” he demanded. His hands were white from where he was gripping the desk. “Are there any family with him?!”

_Are there any even alive to be with him?_

“Laura and Derek are still by the police station,” Melissa explained. She eyed him, worry written in her eyes. “They haven’t had the time to come here yet.”

Laura and Derek. Peter’s niece and nephew.

Were they the only ones left then?

What a devastating loss, Stiles thought distantly. For a pack as large as twenty, perhaps more, and only three were left alive?

Hunters. It had to be hunters.

It only made Stiles more determined to see Peter.

“Then you should let me be there for him, just until they arrive,” he begged. “Please, Melissa.”

“Stiles…”

“Please,” he pleaded. He could feel something wet fall down his cheeks. “He’s my fiancé.”

Melissa’s eyes widened. She stared at him, then his empty hands. He let go of the desk with one of them, reaching towards his neck. He pulled out a chain with a simple golden ring dangling from it. His smile was empty.

“It was a promise when he left for his last year. It wasn’t- we weren’t official like that. Not yet. We wanted to wait.”

“Does your father know?” she asked quietly, eyes focusing on the computer before her. Her fingers were flying on the keyboard.

“Not yet,” he admitted just as quietly. “I’m- I’m still in college. Peter’s older than me for a few good years. Dad already knows we are friends but we were warming him up to it.”

“Now that I’ve heard you admit it, I can see it,” Melissa said. Her furious tapping stopped. “Whenever you stopped by to play with Scott, with Peter trailing after you, he just looked so happy-”

“He likes Scott too. He knows I love him like a little brother, so he was already bonding with the squirt. He wanted to make a good impression on- on the family,” Stiles choked the last words out. Melissa stood up and walked around the station to give him a hug. He clung to her, a sob escaping from him.

“Oh sweetie,” she soothed him, rubbing his back. She drew back after a moment, sympathy personified.

“Come, I’ll take you to him.”

***

Stiles couldn’t go to Peter and it hurt every cell of his body. He could only watch his lover through the glass as he was tended to by the doctors and rest of the medical personnel. Peter looked awful. His skin was blistering red, burns third or even fourth degree in some places, and his eyes were almost vacant if not for the pain reflected in them. He was so weak that even the flimsy hospital restraints were able to keep him down.

Stiles hurt. His heart was breaking.

But there was nothing that could drag him from there.

His father visited a few hours after, clearly having been called by Melissa. He just sat down next to him in silent support. They both stared at Peter’s room, unable to go in but watching others go in and out. Medical people. No family. His dad told him he was welcome to stay for as long as he wanted but he could only get him so much time off from college. Stiles had nodded mechanically. Rationally he knew he’d have to go back at some point.

But not yet.

Peter needed him.

It was the next day, a day and a half after he had rushed to the hospital, when Melissa dropped him home, told him to take a nap and eat before he could go back to the hospital. He was told he could only go back after five hours.

Stiles could only sleep for two and eat for a few bites before he almost threw up. He resolved getting a smoothie or something liquid on his way to the hospital. But he still had too much time left. He was shaking from exhaustion, but he couldn’t- he just couldn’t go back to sleep. It just wasn’t possible. He only saw flashes of fire and heard screams that alarmingly sounded like Peter whenever he closed his eyes. He knew Peter needed him.

He ended up at the Hale house. The whole area still smelled of smoke. There was tape around the scene, but no one was there at the moment. It was evening after all, everyone had gone home in the darkening night.

It wasn’t fair.

Stiles stared at the blackened remnants of a place which had had so much joy hidden inside. He had visited the place multiple times with Deaton – never with Peter, it hadn’t been time for that yet, although he always found a way to be present – but it had always been bursting with life. To see it so lifeless…

It would have been shocking if Stiles didn’t feel so numb inside.

He didn’t walk inside the taped area. His father would kill him if he tampered with anything even if he wanted to. He itched to walk in, to see if he could find something that would indicate which hunters were responsible for this. He walked around, close to the forest, and finally saw a layer of dust that didn’t fit with the overall brown and black of the ground. He kneeled, reaching for some of it, feeling it with his fingers.

Mountain ash.

No wonder they didn’t make it out of the house, he thought distantly, rage burning inside. He closed his eyes, trying to feel the earth. He might not be a druid like Deaton, he might not have a connection to the nature the same as him, but he was a spark and he knew there would be something for him to see.

 _Show me!_ he ordered his magic, shoved it when it gathered around him, twisting and turning with unspent energy. It burst into motion, seeped into the ground, the remains, the forest. He took in the information, every little thing his dad didn’t tell him or didn’t know.

How the Hales had been trapped, even their secret tunnel in the basement.

How Peter had burst inside the burning house to help but to no avail.

How someone had closed the line after him, locking him and everyone else in.

How there was someone hiding inside a tree trunk a mile from the house.

Stiles’ eyes snapped open. His head slowly turned to the direction his magic was pointing him.

It felt like a Hale.

He took off in a renewed burst of energy. Someone had survived, someone other than Peter or Laura or Derek. Someone else. It had to be one of the children, perhaps Katie, or Ethan or Cora. It could even be little Abigail.

With the increased sensitivity leftover from merging with his magic, he could feel the alarm the little survivor was expressing. The person’s energy was slow though and weak, and there was certainty there that they would not be able to get out and hide before Stiles was upon them.

The person was right.

Stiles stopped before the hollowed tree, knowing the child was inside it. He kneeled before it, speaking calmly even if his heartrate must have been off the charts.

“Hey,” he said. His mouth was dry and he had to cough before he could continue. “Hey. My name is Stiles. Remember me? I’ve been to your house before. I felt you here. Please. I only want to help you. I’m Peter’s- I’m Peter’s.”

He waited but there was no response.

“Please. I swear to you. I mean you no harm. I’ll protect you from the hunters. I swear. Pinky promise.”

Still nothing. Stiles took a deep breath and started talking, telling the child who he was, who his family was, how he had found her and-

“-and I know you’re a wolf so I know you can hear my heart so you should know I’m not lying. Unless it’s beating too fast which I’m sorry about. I can’t- I just came from Peter, well, almost, I stopped by home first because I was forced out, but I was going back and-”

A figure rolled out of the tree, crawling next to him. She was dirty, her hair was matted with dirt and sap, and there was a wild look in her eyes.

“Take me to him,” she demanded, voice cracking from disuse. She tried to stand up but failed and fell down again. She grabbed his hand, desperate.

“My pack, take me to my pack.”

“I will, I promise,” Stiles told her. He picked her up. She was dirty and almost unrecognisable and she was surprisingly light, like she was still in elementary school. Which meant that- “Cora? That you?”

Cora nodded, eyes shining.

“First, we’ll go and get you cleaned up,” Stiles told her. When she looked like she would protest, he continued, “because if we don’t, they might not let you in Peter’s room. He’s not well and you’re unclean.”

Cora closed her mouth and nodded, even if she didn’t look satisfied. They walked in silence, Stiles carrying Cora on his back, back to the Hale house and his car. The little girl hid her eyes when they arrived, her body wracking with sobs. Stiles felt awful at having forced her to see this – the view would probably haunt her forever – but the fastest way to Peter was through his car and she knew that.

He knew she would appreciate it, even if it meant going through her home turned graveyard.

They were at his house in half an hour, she was scrubbed completely clean in another, and then they were off after a quick break to the closest supermarket.

Stiles carried Cora to the hospital, five hours after he left on the dot, with another nurse – Helen, maybe? – manning the desk. He nodded at her, and asked her to call his dad. She looked at him in askance but then noticed the girl hanging onto him and her identity dawned to her. She nodded.

“Okay,” Stiles said, walking past the desk to the direction he knew Peter was before. When they arrived, the nurse told them they managed to move Peter to another room a floor below. He would now be able to take in visitors but only family were allowed.

When the time came for Cora to go in, she grabbed Stiles by his hand.

“You smell like Peter,” she told him fiercely, eyeing the nurses in distrust. “You smell like pack.”

They went in together.

***

Stiles was pathetically grateful for Cora. The nurses hadn’t wanted to cause a scene with the only relative who’d come to see Peter – Derek or Laura still hadn’t arrived – who was also a child less than ten years old at that.

Because of her, he was able to sit with Peter, even hold his bandaged hand.

Yes, he was definitely pathetically grateful.

Cora herself sat on the other side of the bed, finally nodding off in the presence of pack no matter how small or bad off. Stiles had warned her of Peter’s condition, that it wouldn’t be pretty to see, but he should have known she wouldn’t have cared.

The only reason he ever let go of Peter, shrugging off his hoodie to rest on Cora’s shoulder, was that his dad had come to see them. He tiptoed out of the room, giving one last look at Peter and Cora, before closing the door and facing his father.

“I see you found her,” Noah said. He looked tired, Stiles noted. He probably hadn’t slept much since the fire, much like Stiles himself.

“I did,” he admitted. “I found her wandering around. She managed to escape but got lost in the woods after.” He paused and added, almost as an afterthought, “I promise, the crime scene is undisturbed.”

“We don’t know yet if it was a crime,” his dad gently reminded. Stiles met his eyes and held them. The corridor was quiet, nurses away for the moment, and it only added to the solemn atmosphere. Noah’s brows crinkled.

“Did you find something?”

Stiles nodded. It was about time he told him about who the Hales were. They had decided to wait with breaking him the news, Stiles and Peter had, until they would tell him they were together. His dad knew of supernatural, hard not to when both his wife and son were magic. The Hales weren’t Stiles’ secret, yet the situation was forcing his hand. He did need proof though.

“Where are Laura and Derek?” he asked instead of elaborating. Noah frowned, no doubt planning on protesting, but Stiles shook his head. “I promise, this is relevant.”

Noah scratched the back of his neck. A sign of frustration. Stiles steeled himself for bad news.

“We don’t know,” his dad admitted. Stiles’ stomach dropped. “They left the station after we had finished questioning them. They dropped off the map immediately afterwards.”

Stiles blinked slowly. The lights in the corridors flickered before exploding into millions of pieces of glass. Noah was yelling and people were rushing back, yelling and trying their best to clean up the freak incident but Stiles wasn’t listening.

They left pack behind. They left _Peter_ behind. _They left Cora-_

How dare they. _How dare they._

He ignored his father and pushed inside Peter’s room again, miraculously holding onto its lighting unlike the rest of the corridor. Cora was awake again, clutching at Stiles’ hoodie. She looked scared.

“They left.” It wasn’t a question but her tone broke Stiles’ heart. It was emotionless, numb. He had never heard of such from a child before. The closest he could think of was his own when his mother had died but that was him. He didn’t really remember the months after.

“We’ll find them,” he just said. He walked over and drew her into a hug. “Even if it takes years, we’ll find them.”

There were probably viable reasons for Laura and Derek leaving. Trauma. Shock.

Hunters.

But that still wasn’t reason enough to leave Peter or Cora behind. Couldn’t they feel the pack bonds? Why would they ignore them if they did? They didn’t all disappear overnight, Stiles knew that. They couldn’t. Peter had once explained to him how they could sense each other always faintly. The closer they were, the easier it was to feel things from them.

The hospital and the Sheriff’s station weren’t far from each other.

“What’s going to happen to me?” Cora asked. She sounded older than her years. Laura was a year older than Stiles, Derek two years his junior. But at this moment, Stiles could have sworn she sounded older than them all but with all the fragility of her few years.

“You’re going to come to live with me,” Stiles promised. He petted the freshly cut hair of Cora’s – they had to shorten it with all the sap making it impossible to clean off properly – and hugged her tight. He felt her clutch at him. There was a large wet spot forming on his chest. He pressed a kiss on top of her head, eyes never leaving Peter’s still form.

“You’re coming with me and we’ll stay together. I’ll be the pack for you until yours return to you. And even after, always.”

The sobs increased in volume. Stiles turned his head slightly, seeing his father watching them. Noah nodded at him, eyes flicking on Cora’s shaking form, before he walked out again. There was no doubt in Stiles’ mind where he was going.

Next week, the adoption papers came through.

There was no sign of Laura or Derek.

***

Years passed. Stiles graduated from college early with flying marks and high expectations from his professors. He had once wanted to go out of state for work, perhaps even abroad, but now opted for a job close-by, much to the disappointment of his betters. He was a twenty-two-year-old with a Master’s degree but he knew he was needed home.

And he wouldn’t change a thing no matter how much his teachers told him he was wasting his talents.

It had been hard, college. He had skyped with Cora every night, spent most of his weekends and holidays in Peter’s room at the hospital. Peter was still in a coma but his vitals were strong and Stiles knew they were getting stronger still.

The presence of his pack does that to a wolf.

The revelation had gone surprisingly well with Noah. His dad had asked for them to give him time to think, grabbed his files with him, but next morning he had been up early, making coffee, and sitting Stiles down to tell him everything again but now with more details.

Stiles did. Cora helped.

His dad now had a whole new appreciation of the phrase ‘hidden in plain sight’. He had also asked why Stiles had kept his relationship from him to which Stiles answered that:

“With Peter being who he was, it would have meant revealing his secret too.”

It was true. Peter had saved Stiles one night when he was returning home from babysitting Scott from a rogue omega, thus revealing who and what he was. Later the same night, Stiles had saved Peter from the hunter, who had followed the omega, but had decided to settle for Peter, with an uncontrollable burst of magic. It was a wild night overall.

Peter had introduced him to Deaton the very next day.

Stiles was thirteen back then, Peter a mere nineteen.

Noah also took better than expected the news that Stiles and Peter are in a relationship, present tense. Stiles made it clear that unless Peter woke up and told him he no longer wanted him, this was it for him (and even if that happened, it still might be). His dad had nodded, wistfully rubbing his wedding band around his finger.

When the Stilinski men fell, they fell hard.

“When he wakes up, I still want to hear about it from him,” Noah just said, pouring himself another cup of coffee and abandoning it in favour of soothing Stiles’ tears away.

“You said ‘when’,” Stiles had whispered because no louder noise left his mouth. Noah had smiled for him and tugged him close.

“Of course.”

Stiles had never felt as fiercely glad for his dad and the bud of hope that had been struggling to survive had burst into a bonfire.

Despite his degree in psychology, Stiles worked at the front of the Sheriff’s station. It gave him a steady income and a place to call home. It also gave him access to the police reports. Stiles was still investigating the Hale Fire with his dad’s blessing and a warning to be careful. For now, he had managed to track down possible accomplishes, such as one Adrian Harris. He had given him a description of the woman who had tricked him, in exchange of him not pressing charges.

Stiles had agreed. Of course, he knew it would never be him who would press them.

That pleasure would belong to Peter and Cora when they had caught the devil herself.

Cora had also become stronger and steadier as the years went by. Last year in middle school, she and Scott were practically inseparable. When Stiles had introduced her to Scott, the boy had been jealous of the attention Stiles had given to Cora. Cora, however, had taken the matter into her own hands and practically strong-armed Scott into accepting that they were now stepsiblings through Stiles.

Scott had perked up immediately, asking Stiles if it was true. He had laughed and nodded and Scott had beamed so brightly. It was then that Cora and Scott had become inseparable at school and no one ever even attempted to bully Scott for his asthma again. When the question of best friends came up, Scott looking between them in agony, stubbornly declaring them both his best friends in addition to being his pseudo-siblings.

Cora had snorted and rolled her eyes.

“Duh,” she had said. And that was it.

It was the summer before Cora was starting in high school that Stiles felt a tug in his mind. He practically flew up from his seat at the station, told his dad, now the Sheriff, he was taking the rest of the day off and ran to the hospital in a frenzy. Cora and Scott had met him in the parking lot, one looking more confused than the other, and the three of them had marched into the hospital together.

When they reached Peter’s room, they were met with golden eyes.

Stiles could have wept from happiness.

And he did.

***

The recovery was fast after the initial difficulties. Soon after he had woken from the coma, Peter was moving in with Stiles. It had been frustrating at first for Peter, trying to get his limbs to work for him. Still, with Stiles being a constant presence – he had taken a leave from work to be around Peter – and Cora (and Scott) coming over every day it became easier and easier for him until he was almost fully recovered after a hard half a year.

The doctors called it a miracle.

But it didn’t bring them all pleasure either. Stiles had finally narrowed down the subject of his search to one Katherine Argent. She had worked at the high school as a substitute and gained access to Derek, Stiles suspected, and he told Peter as much.

The coffee table was never the same afterwards.

They couldn’t find her though. It was as if she had vanished from official records. It wasn’t unusual with hunters. Dead were often written off as missing if their deaths couldn’t be explained for mundane but Peter was sure she was alive. Stiles thought so as well. They did find her brother and his family but when they dug deeper, they didn’t find out anything incriminating.

Innocent until proven otherwise.

He had also tried to track Laura and Derek to tell them the news of Peter’s recovery to no avail. If they wouldn’t resurface for Cora, they wouldn’t for Peter.

“Do you feel the bonds anymore?” Stiles asked one night as they were lying on the bed, curled together with Cora sleeping between them. Peter slowly shook his head, pained melancholy taking over his features.

“They have been gone for so long. I’m not sure when they disappeared but I remember a burst of agony in the middle of all that pain. For a moment, I thought I was alone – but only for that brief moment.” Peter reached over Cora to tug Stiles closer. His expression settled into something that still managed to make Stiles’ heart race. “Then you were there, and so was Cora.

“You saved me.”

Stiles kissed Peter’s hand, caressing the scars on his face. They did nothing to hide his beauty from him, even if sometimes Peter flinched from his touch, avoiding the mirrors. Peter had always been far too gorgeous to be true, and the bastard knew it. Stiles would just have to keep reminding him of the fact so he wouldn’t forget it.

“You are mine,” Stiles merely said, pulling Peter’s hand to where his heart beat. “And I am yours.”

A smile transformed Peter’s face to a miracle and Stiles’ heart skipped a beat.

“Always.”

***

After Peter’s recovery, they took up to protecting Beacon Hills with vengeance. The Hale Fire had caused many dark creatures to claim their place in the town, drawn by the Nemeton that resided in the middle of the preserve. The knowledge of the tree being there had taken them by surprise and no small amount of anger. Deaton had taken it all with that infuriating calm but there had been a resigned air around him. The job to watch over it had, for many generations, been something for the Hale alpha and their emissary, but only the alpha could decide whether to pass over the knowledge or not. No matter how mad Stiles had been for being kept in the dark, he could acknowledge it hadn’t been Deaton’s fault. The druid had sworn himself to the alpha and the alpha would decide how he could serve her the best, with advice and spellcasting, naturally according to the druidic laws. If the alpha deemed something unnecessary…

Well.

Stiles wasn’t unreasonable.

But now that there was again a Hale pack growing, with an alpha or not, and an emissary there to guide them, Deaton could finally hand over the reins to those who worked in harmony.

“Better than Talia and I ever could,” Deaton lamented, tired as if the years of trying to contain the Nemeton alone had chipped him little by little until almost nothing was left. Peter had been silent whereas Stiles had yelled, but he spoke then:

“If you could have, would you have prevented the fire?” Peter’s expression was neutral, eyes half-lidded. “If you had caught Laura, would you have told her, prevented her from leaving?”

“For the first one, of course,” Deaton answered, shaking his head. “I serve the balance but there was no balance in the act that caused your family their deaths. It set off something but I haven’t been able to find out what. For the second one, I would have told her. But only if she had an emissary of her own and was willing.”

Deaton held up his hand, stopping Stiles from going off in another tirade. “The alpha-emissary bond is for life. Not even death completely severs it. Some fear it, some hate it, some embrace it. But she couldn’t have alone protected it, like I couldn’t. But we couldn’t have done it together either, not when I am still bound to your sister. No, it was better for me to hold it off until there could be someone I could trust this task.

“So please.” Deaton kneeled on the ground, eyes blank and empty and the world on his shoulders. “Please accept this responsibility. For if you do not, I am not sure how long I could last.”

And the Nemeton left unchecked could only mean a disaster.

Stiles knew what it felt like, being the one half of a pair left to move forward. Yet, he had hope for Peter’s recovery, dreams for the future they would share. Deaton had none, but he still continued to walk on until he knew he could rest.

Needless to say, Peter and Stiles accepted.

Stiles threw himself into the emissary training, already having previously mastered his spark under Deaton’s careful tutelage. He would never know nature and balance like the druids did but he was powerful, more powerful than Deaton and his kind could ever hope to be, and with each passing day he understood more and more until it no longer mattered. While he was delving deep into the depths of wills most ancient, Peter protected the town, driving away or killing a variety of creatures that humans couldn’t handle, sometimes with Stiles, sometimes with Cora, sometimes even with Stiles’ father. The town hadn’t been safer for years. Two work-filled months later it was done and Stiles knew exactly what he was signing up for.

And there was only one thing he desired.

Deaton performed the ritual to connect them to the land and the Nemeton with Stiles’ dad, Cora, Scott and Melissa, now also in the loop, as witnesses, severing the ties Laura had taken with her while she escaped, and transferred the right to a Hale who had never left the land, stayed loyal despite everything. He tied Stiles to Peter in a bond that was so strong they would always be together, no matter the distance; neither would ever be alone again.

When they breathed the same air, lips barely an inch apart, Stiles smiled and said:

“Trust me.”

And Peter did, closing his eyes as per Stiles’ instructions. Stiles whispered to the winds, to the land, to the waters and the memory of fire. He sang to the people and creatures, good and evil, sick and healthy. He spoke those in death and those in life.

But most importantly, he spoke to Peter.

“You are worth it,” he said, heart beating steady, and pressed a kiss light as a feather on his forehead. His lover, his partner, his life and death and his-

His alpha.

And when Peter opened his eyes, they were red.

And the land rejoiced.

***

Laura came back three weeks later.

She didn’t come alone. With her came Derek, and they walked past the boundary line Peter had claimed for his own, to protect and serve and rule as the lord of the night, the alpha.

She didn’t announce her return but there was no mistake of who had entered. The land still recognised her as a Hale, the centuries of blood singing with a kin’s return, but there was nothing more than just that, a greeting. The land did not bend for her will, it would not scream its loyalty.

Stiles, in tune with the winds, smiled and guided his pack to the preserve and where the foreign wolves lingered.

The Hale house.

It was more than surprise that spread on Laura’s face when she saw Peter; it was disbelief, shock and even anger. She flashed her eyes but to demand what, Stiles couldn’t say. Blue met red, and Laura’s mouth tightened. It loosened the moment the rest of the pack arrived behind them, dropping wide open as she took in the form of her little sister, no doubt cruel words left unsaid with her mistakes presented right before her.

“Cora?” Derek whispered, pale as a ghost. He moved forward, disregarding anything and everything around them and threw himself at her, clutching her close. Laura had her mouth covered, knuckles bit.

“You were nowhere to be found,” Stiles stated, eyes hard. “Not for your uncle, not for your sister.”

“There were hunters,” Laura said quietly, stubborn tick in her jaw. Her eyes flashed but only in regret. “There was no choice.”

“There is always a choice,” Peter said, unrelenting, the years of pain a memory that wouldn’t fade. “You just didn’t make it.”

“I’m sorry,” she and Derek whispered at the same time, their reasons different. Stiles and Peter exchanged looks, a discussion just for them, and in the end Peter’s shoulders fell a little and his arms spread.

“Come. Let us go home.”

Derek was in his uncle’s arms the moment he gained permission, mumbling apologies into his neck. Cora was curled under his other arm, extending hers towards Laura as well. There was an empty spot for someone to fill.

It wasn’t left empty for long.

Stiles stepped back and basked in the warmth the reunited family excluded. He felt someone nudge him and smiled at Scott, tackling him to a tight hug. His father and Melissa quickly joined him, dragging along their newest packmate, still a little touch-shy, Isaac.

He felt the earth rumble, soft and satisfied. There was still a lot of work to do; creatures to kill, spirits to cleanse, relationships to fix. But, nonetheless, Stiles was certain they would be able to do it.

After all, the Hales were back in Beacon Hills.

**Author's Note:**

> I'd love to know your thoughts if you have the time to spare :)


End file.
